The larger-than-life figure sauntered alone at dusk in the hidden recesses of Hanoi. A new curfew had been announced by the Chinese man earlier in the day. The residents hunkered down and fled into the dark corners of their houses whenever the wanderer approached. He brooded and ignored the citizens other than an occasional kick to a desolate hawker stall. His beard had grown longer, now forming a pointed goatee off his chin. He had a sword strapped to his back, and he plodded along like a beast on the prowl. A boy, hidden behind a dumpster, couldn’t contain his fright, and a panicked utterance slipped out of him. He stood, straight-backed, like an alert animal and fled. Sun Quan kicked the dumpster off the edge of the street, and it smashed into the metal bars of a store front, shattering its glass. The beast moved on. The pace quickened as he turned the corner onto the street next to St. Joseph’s Cathedral—a block away from Hoan Kiem Lake. He looked down at his hands, then pressed them together until his skin turned clear and swirled in circles. His body gave way to a formless ghost. He flew into the sky and hovered over the spire of the church. Sun Quan in human form reappeared, perched on the top, like a solemn gargoyle gazing off towards the lake.
“What are you waiting for? I understand what you’re trying to do. I see you’re willing to unleash the past. You’ve joined me in this. Come. Come now. Let’s settle this. Let’s talk. Let’s relive the secrets of the deep. Don’t deny the yearning of your soul. I can feel it.”
The deep of the lake didn’t reply.
“I’m prepared to do this. If you are. If you feel trapped by me. I thought you would be more forthright. What have I hidden? I’ve shown you everything, but you have chosen the ways of the shadows and the folly of the underground. Is that the way you want it?”
He pleaded to the layers of the sky and the depths of the lake, which had watched the history of this volatile region unfold. The struggle for identity, the pursuit of independence, the fierce tenacity of a people wanting to live outside the clutches of the northern invaders. But Sun Quan wanted something more than just a moment of glory on a battlefield, so he asked her again to consider his plea.
“Why don’t you come now and settle this?”
He morphed back to his formless self until the massive warrior reappeared on the banks of Hoan Kiem Lake.
“I could come to you, you know? If I wanted. But I will wait. Be assured. I will not act mercifully toward you, as I will not be merciful to this city. If you do not offer yourself to me, then I will strangle everything you hold precious. That is my promise.”
He waited a moment and dipped his toe into the water. It was accepted, but he didn’t press further.
“You have chosen.”
In that moment, the giant bird landed on top of St. Joseph’s spire. Sun Quan watched from below and shifted his appearance until he stood opposite her, face to face and alone with Lady Trieu for the first time.
“I knew you couldn’t ignore me forever.”
He moved in close to her. She didn’t flinch. He was six feet away in the midst of the heavy tension balancing on the edge of the cathedral. They rivaled each other in stature and swagger. Both tall and unmoving. The bird had recoiled its head behind her. Neither engaged their weapons.
“You are beautiful,” he said.
“Which is why you want me. Some things never change.”
“We were meant to be.”
“Stop the useless platitudes.”
“You don’t understand.” He moved closer still. A lover on the move. She froze every muscle. He brushed up against her. Her face remained motionless and straight ahead. His breath touched her ear.
“How did you return?” she asked.
“Always the pragmatist.”
“It’s our survival. We are a practical people. We must be pragmatic. How much poetry survives at the edge of a sword.”
He grinned. “My lady, if you could raise your gaze beyond the mundane of the rice paddy for one moment, what grandeur on the horizon you would see—a reckoning, a revival, a long overdue payment rendered by the gods of the universe. And together …”
“You’ve just killed an untold number of my people, and you dare to use the term ‘together.’ You’re wasting your breath.”
Sun Quan stepped around Lady Trieu and confronted her straight on. “Damn your petty politics. Don’t you realize what we have here? A chance. Only one. To redo this human mess once and for all. We each know the history all too well. The lust for more spilled blood … for what? For a negotiated peace which endures no longer than the conflict itself. The cycle repeats. We were cogs in the same wheel. I advanced, you countered. And I acknowledge your skill in defeating me.”
Lady Trieu glared towards him. “Is that what’s happening? You can’t defeat me so you want me to join you?”
“No,” snapped Sun Quan. “Your strength intrigues me. There’s an unspoken beauty in it. In the midst of so much pain and grief, you stand firm. You bond together. You believe there’s something worth holding on to. Even if it kills you.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “Beautiful.”
His face was inches from hers. The bird’s head cocked in alert like a cobra ready to strike, but it displayed restraint. Lady Trieu remained unmoved as she felt his breath all over her. Power dripped from him, and she felt the connection in their eyes. A dangerous thrill. An unexplained phenomenon. The world at that moment belonged to them. And maybe he was right. The endless cycle could end if … She closed her eyes, and he leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“Together, what human could stop us. I’m not opposed to bloodshed on both sides, as long as we believe that—together—we can do this.”
“Do what?”
“Put it all under our feet. They brought this upon themselves. They unleashed us, but we don’t take orders from them. Not anymore. Don’t you understand? We’re no longer bound by petty politics or geographical boundaries. Look at us. It’s marvelous. We’re not like them. Could it be more obvious? We are vastly superior to the quagmire they insist upon wallowing in. They grovel at the mundane and beg and plead for one more day of sunlight, when we can shape ourselves at will. We can rise above, you and I. Let’s put an end to the bickering and bring a lasting peace, which no human would be able to perceive.”
They both breathed heavily in their human bodies. Trieu had turned her head and looked off in the direction of the lake.
“And this lasting peace… what will it cost?”
“Who cares about the cost? Either way, blood will flow. Why not end the shedding of lives with an alliance which will last far beyond the next invasion.”
She felt every word. After all, she wasn’t human any more. Duty is a human trait. One of self-obligation and order. Duty commands an unwavering world view. It’s obligated to stand when ordered, to move when commanded, to sacrifice when needed. But duty had not awakened her. Magic had, by an old man taken with the ancient ways, unable to see any other way forward. Duty had driven him into the lake to find her. But what had awakened her? Certainly not duty. What allegiance did she owe him? She had accomplished her part. She had sacrificed herself for the ideal, for the grand experiment, for the glory. What had it benefited her? A statue? A shrine? A street sign with her name on it? What did all of that mean to her now? Why did she need to preserve them? She had done her part; now it was their turn, but in the hour of need, they fell into the grip of the past and exposed themselves to their own destruction. What did she owe them? She had been summoned from the deep by the fatal whims of a desperate old man to confront an unparalleled evil. But evil is only one part of power. And the thrill of being alive once more allowed her to push the evil to the side for a moment to admire the force attracting her.
As the two warriors from the underbelly of humanity negotiated their allegiances on top of the St. Joseph Cathedral spire, a small group of young boys noticed their silhouettes in the waning dusk. They gawked and pointed, yelling to friends and family to look at the strange exchange on the top of the church. The crowd grew, many of them fearful to leave their homes with the threat of another lockdown being announced. But it was too fantastic to ignore. A giant long-tailed bird next to a massive heroine confronting the demon warrior of Hanoi. The swarming crowd finally commanded the attention of Lady Trieu. As Sun Quan whispered his intentions in her ear, she turned her head to witness either their arms stretched out pointing her way or their hands over their mouths in disbelief. Her countrymen begged to her—not personally, since they couldn’t understand her identity—but the linked ties of the past and their existential struggle to survive the endless assaults couldn’t escape her. Not at this moment. Not when the sheltered masses had defied orders and dared to fill the square in front of the church to see the stand-off with the demon warrior.
One boy started it first as a monotone chant. But it was quickly picked up by others until the entire square filled with women and children and old men chanted it in unison, and it rose above the cathedral and swirled around the two transcendent interlocutors on the spire above.
“There’s nothing more important than independence and freedom.”
The saying reverberated above the crowd, and hovered in the air as Lady Trieu absorbed its meaning. Sun Quan pulled away and glanced over the edge of the cathedral. He let out a roar like that of an animal, and the crowd scattered. Some screamed. Some ran for cover. Others still stood defiantly, believing they had nothing left to lose.
“Sun Quan, let me make something very clear to you,” Trieu stated. “I am of the Viet tribe of the south. I am and will always be Vietnamese.”
She back-stepped and flung a sidekick into Sun Quan’s chest, careening him off the edge of the cathedral. His body hit the pavement in a massive thud, nearly killing two people who barely had enough time to get out of the way. The crowd, with horror-filled eyes, circled around and watched him writhe in pain. They pressed in close and spit vindictive expletives his way. A few even dared to touch the demon warrior. One middle-aged woman kicked him in the side, but Sun Quan rose in their midst like a born-again preacher ready to set the record straight. He tore into a few of them, spewing their blood in the square and causing a panicked retreat amongst the Vietnamese faithful. The chaos spread into the adjacent avenues. Sun Quan ripped through the crowd causing as much damage as possible until Lady Trieu bounded off the spire and landed in front of the Chinese warrior. She unsheathed the sword. Sun Quan’s sword met hers in a flurry of sparks and sounds reverberating above the chaos. They moved in a frantic fashion with each warrior gaining the upper hand one moment only to lose it the next. The people of the square fell over top of each other to avoid contact with the dueling warriors from the underworld.
Sun Quan sliced Lady Trieu twice in the left arm, forcing her to retreat into a side alley. Unrelenting, he followed her. Trieu countered with a quick move off a side wall and hit a solid blow on him, sending him to the ground. She attacked with her sword, but he repelled and forced her into the open area around Hoan Kiem Lake. The giant bird now circled overhead, and the crowds swarmed the lake to see the epic battle. No words were spoken. Just intense grunts and hits and massive swaths with the swords. Each one landed successful blows, but none were fatal, and they teetered on the edge of the lake, each with their righteous cause on the tip of their swords.
The chorus of words rose above the fray—the words of Uncle Ho—the only ones they knew—and they became bolder as Lady Trieu fought with all the resolve she had against the worthy opponent.
And then it happened. Sun Quan reflected one of her blows and shifted his weight to the side, thrusting his sword under her rib cage. She winced in pain and fell backward, splashing into the edge of the lake and disappearing beneath the surface. Sun Quan yelled into the sky a great cry from a warrior clearly at the edge of his capacity. He panted once and poked his sword into the water before yelling into the air once more. She had disappeared, and the massive crowd which had gathered on all sides of the lake collectively backed away as Sun Quan raised the sword over his head and walked to the edge of the bank.
The water near the edge seemed to explode and Lady Trieu rose out of the depths with both hands on her sword. She thrust it forward and pierced it through Sun Quan’s right side. The long-tailed bird circled overhead as the harsh, dark night settled into the city without electricity. Some onlookers held candles as if they attended a vigil, as their fate hung in the balance. Their worn faces urged on Lady Trieu, most still not knowing who she was except that she fought for them against the demon warrior, and she had not yet seen defeat.
The bird swooped earthward. The dueling pair felt the air shift as its long tail curled around Sun Quan’s right wrist and jerked him skyward several feet off the ground. The move prevented a sure blow against Lady Trieu, who had recoiled after her strike into Sun Quan’s side. She was unsure why she hesitated on a death blow. She watched the bird entangled around him, and within seconds, no one watching could decipher if the bird held Sun Quan or if Sun Quan had captured the bird. The warrior had morphed out of his body and the formless shape encircled like a boa constrictor, wrapping its prey in a death grip. Lady Trieu pulsed upward like the fired light from an explosion, and the three of them wrestled in the air for a few seconds before the two took human form again and crashed to the earth—the long-tailed bird still in Sun Quan’s clutches. The bird let out a loud call, and it wriggled free and ascended into the air, seemingly unharmed. Sun Quan turned over, and without looking, pierced Lady Trieu in the torso with his sword. She dropped her weapon, and stood dazed for a moment. All the people on the perimeter of the darkness still peered in wonder and hoped for a miracle. They still believed what they saw was a miracle—one that would surely save them. For what other purpose could there be?
She heard the chant once more—a final reminder of the substance of the fight—a people desiring freedom from the entanglements of a foreign power, especially one with Sun Quan’s dark vision of the future. As she juggled these thoughts, she fell backward, limp, unresponsive and slid into the water like a fallen tree, disappearing under the surface. Overhead, the bird let out a terrifying cry, but it didn’t try to attack.
Sun Quan backed away a few steps, sword still gripped in his tense right hand. And then Lady Trieu surfaced, not as the vibrant warrior, but as a crumpled corpse. The water moved away from her. She lay on the back of a giant turtle’s shell. The bird let out one more violent cry and swooped down towards the turtle, scooping Lady Trieu into its mouth and taking off into the sky.
Sun Quan watched but didn’t attempt to stop the bird. Instead, he turned around and sauntered across the street, now barren, toward the church once more.
“You have chosen, and so then have I.”
He flipped open his polished steel device and the Chinese man appeared on the screen.
“Sun Quan. Have you made your decision?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“Proceed.”
The Chinese man smiled. “Finally, we’ll put an end to this.”
The screen went blank, and Sun Quan shifted his appearance until he stood at the top of St. Joseph’s spire once again. This time alone. Even the bird had flown out of sight.